she
had been so beaten by the rods of scorn, so smothered by the dust of
humiliation, that there had come to her the courage of those who would
rather die fighting than in the lethargy of despair.

It was like her old self to take the initiative, but she did it now in
so different a way--without masterfulness or assumption. It was rather
like saying, "I will do what I know you wish me to do; I will lay all
reserve aside for your sake; I will be bold because I love you."

He shut the door behind them and motioned her to a chair.

"No, I will not sit," she said. "That is too formal. You ask any
stranger to sit. I am at home here, Shiel, and I will stand."

"What was it you wanted to say, Mona?" he asked, scarcely looking at
her.

"I should like to think that there was something you wished to hear,"
she replied. "Don't you want to know all that has happened since you
left us--about me, about your brother, about your friends, about Lammis?
I bought Lammis at the sale you ordered; it is still ours." She gave
emphasis to "ours." "You may not want to hear all that has happened to
me since you left, still I must tell you some things that you ought to
know, if we are going to part again. You treated me badly. There was no
reason why you should have left and placed me in the position you did."

His head came up sharply and his voice became a little hard. "I told you
I was penniless, and I would not live on you, and I could do nothing in
England; I had no trade or profession. If I had said good-bye to you,
you would probably have offered me a ticket to Canada. As I was a pauper
I preferred to go with what I had out of the wreck--just enough to bring
me here. But I've earned my own living since."

"Penniless--just enough to bring you out here!" Her voice had a sound of
honest amazement. "How can you say such a thing! You had my letter--you
said you had my letter?"

"Yes, I had your letter," he answered. "Your thoughtful brother brought
it to me. You had told him all the dear womanly things you had said or
were going to say to your husband, and he passed them on to me with the
letter."

"Never mind what he said to you, Shiel. It was what I said that
mattered." She was getting bolder every minute. The comedy was playing
into her hands.

"You wrote in your letter the things he said to me," he replied.

Her protest sounded indignantly real. "I said nothing in the letter I
wrote you that any man would not wish to hear. Is